Ads
“JOIN THE DMV! BUY OUR ORGANIC SALSA!”
Burning on filthy subway walls
Jerking back, muttering “it’s too bright,”
Train coming, train coming
A long silver bullet blasting through the blackness of the ancient tunnel
More ads inside
Then screaming, bolting up from the seat
Ignoring your unwilling audience as you run from the train
Through the toll-taker and up the escalator
Howling now, running down the sidewalks
Then home, into the bathroom
Lifting the lid and spilling waste from your stomach into the bowl
The bathroom lights observing and judging
What are they saying?
Then, a dark bedroom
The moon shining on the floor
Into bed, shuddering and moaning
Paroxysms of rage and frustration
Tearing at you from the inside
Sweating and gasping
Fingers tearing at you like knives
Shouting, howling, shrieking
Jerking and gyrating, covering your face
Then, they sting
Black and yellow, enormous eyes
THEY STING THEY STING THEY STING
THEY STING THEY STING THEY STING
THEY STING AND STING AND STING
But he doesn’t.
He bites.
And they don’t sting anymore.
